First night at the cabin

Some close family members bought a cabin today. They called us from their new place as they sat before the fire, savoring the moment.

There is nothing like the first night at your cabin. The air is filled with a wild sweetness, and the night sounds of the woods keep you awake. The cabin logs expand and crack. Spring peepers and choruses of frogs sing all night. A couple of owls may pay a visit and hoot for a while. Loons laugh in the far cove. Who knew it could be so noisy in the middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night?

Soon, though, those sounds become a lullaby, and not just when you're at the cabin, but during the months when you're away, in the city. How many nights I've laid in bed at home, or even traveling far from home, lulling myself to sleep with thoughts of a summer night at the cabin with the windows open to the night sounds.

That very first night in your cabin is a special milestone. So, here's to you, new cabin owners!  May you make many wonderful memories in your well deserved piece of paradise!

Excellent Essay in Downeast Magazine - "Cabin Noises"

Meg Adams has written a beautiful essay in the February, 2011 Downeast Magazine about waking up at her family cabin when sleeping in the loft. Bravo, Meg!

Here's the link to the story:  "Cabin Noises" by Meg Adams

Midwinter

Tomorrow it's midwinter. It's about 90 days until our big drive north to the cabin. That's assuming the snow melts and the mud dries enough for us to make it the last mile into camp.

Until then, near Boston winter is at its most robust. The deepest cold periods are done and now it's all about the snow. It's piled up to about four feet beside the roads. Ice dams glisten on the roofs. We're out shoveling so often we don't need to greet our neighbors anymore. Yet there is gradual melting, and we can feel more power in the sunshine each lengthening day. Today goldfinches appeared at our feeder, the yellow in their feathers still muted. But when they chirp and fly in dipping arcs, they're singing of the spring to come.

Meantime, we read our books about the north. We connect with our cabin friends by e-mail and phone. We're already planning the season.

For Old Time's Sake - Happy New Year!

Tonight we say goodbye to 2010. Many of us will sing "Auld Lang Syne" but few of us will understand its meaning. In Scotland it is sung not only at New Year's but also at funerals, graduations, changes of government, and so on. The song asks: Is it right that old aquaintenances be forgotten forever? It then answers: we...'ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne (for old times' sake).

So, Happy New Year, and may you create many wonderful memories in 2011, the kind worth remembering in song, verse, or just in your own grateful self.

Woodsmoke from Old Cabins - A Fantastic Story About Log Cabins by Edmund Ware Smith

The late writer Edmund Ware Smith is one of our idols. He wrote many stories and books about the northern Maine woods, capturing its mystique perfectly.

We just came across a story he wrote for Sports Illustrated in 1954.

Enjoy, enjoy. This is vintage Edmund. The link is below.

Woodsmoke from Old Cabins

Waiting for Earl

It's been a very dry and warm August up here in northern Maine. We and our very patient houseguests have coped with the hot (90 degree F) days by eating dinner early, cooking meals that require little additional heat, and going out to enjoy the cool evening air on the lake. Yesterday I went swimming twice off a friend's dock, which helped during the afternoon. After supper, the men went fishing and in the process came upon a mother and baby moose. We women watched the sunset from the screened in porch of a neighbor. After dark, a soaking rainstorm passed through, and this morning, a mist is rising over the 'stream' in front of our cabin. In the mist, the loon parents are teaching their baby to call. So far, it's only making airy squeaks, but even those sounds carry over the still water. Tonight, Hurricane Earl will pass by off shore and will hopefully leave lots of rain for us. Meantime, the hummingbirds (females anyway) are still here. Some warblers, migrating south no doubt, are twittering. And groups of Canada geese gather in the stream. We can't wait for the predicted cooler weather to follow Earl.

The Best Show of All

Up here in the north woods, the Fourth of July is a homemade celebration. And that makes it quite special. Given good weather, even in bad weather, everyone makes an effort to celebrate. If not for themselves, then for the sake of grandchildren and teenagers visiting from the city. This year it was a vintage Fourth. The weather was perfect - 80F with a temperate breeze from the north that kept the bugs away. The sun was shining, but gave us occasional relief behind beautiful puffy clouds.

On our lake, we have a 'boat parade' at 1PM. Mind you, the boats on our lake are not yachts. They are primarily aluminum fishing boats (aluminum due to the boulders), a few small pontoons, and 'Grand Lakers', a style of fishing boat that looks like a long canoe with a straight stern to hold an outboard motor. Everyone dolls up their boats with flags and streamers, and wears Uncle Sam hats and waves flags as we drive around the lake, counter clockwise in a caravan. A parade needs an audience, so others stay on shore, spraying the paraders with water guns, waving, shouting "Happy Fourth" and cheering. It's all over in 45 minutes and the parade boats disperse. This year we had 21 boats.

After that, everyone visits, and most have some kind of cookout and try their luck at fishing for bass, white perch, and pickerel. As darkness falls, one hears the booms and sees the brilliant color displays of fireworks. But those are unofficial and in some cases, not exactly legal. But there is something uniquely American about the whole day here, where citizens organize themselves to have a good time.

This year the day was special because the boat parade passed by a pair of loons with their new chick.

Then after the parade, when we were sharing a glass of lemonade with folks from a neighboring lake, a friendly yearling moose paid a visit.

Come to think of it, no matter what we humans do, Mother Nature always puts on the best show of all.